Sinner's Revenge (Sinner's Creed MC #2)(41)

We meet up at the club and I’m surprised to see Carrie in something other than scrubs. No wonder Rookie keeps her hidden beneath those shapeless clothes—the woman is built like a brick shithouse. She’s got a body like Kate Upton—big natural tits, thick legs, and long brown hair. I feel so guilty about checking out my brother’s woman that I tell him just how hot I think she is.

“Damn, Rookie. Carrie is fine. No wonder you don’t bring her around that often.” My eyes trail up her long body. She’s wearing a short black dress with heels so high they make her almost as tall as Rookie.

Pride sparkles in his eyes as he takes her in himself. “I’m gonna marry her,” he says, as nonchalantly as if he was telling me he had to go take a piss.

“What? Why?” I ask, shocked at his admission.

He just shrugs. “It’s important to her, so it’s important to me. Speaking of ol’ ladies, yours is pretty fine herself.” I follow the direction of his chin tip, and Carrie seems to blur out of the picture when I look at Diem.

Motherf*cker . . .

She’s wearing a turquoise blue dress that ties around her neck. It dips down low in the front, exposing the sides of each of her perfect tits and dips even lower in the back—a hairsbreadth from the crack of her ass. Her olive skin looks darker against the material, and the silver straps of her shoes climb all the way up her calf. How the f*ck had I not noticed her before now? The truck was dark. We were arguing when we left, so I was avoiding her. But was I really that blind?

“We’re going to dance,” she tells me, and all I can do is stand here and gape as she sashays onto the dance floor with Carrie in tow. Rookie claps me on the back, finally snapping me back to reality.

“Come on, brother. I’ll buy you a drink.”


*

Rookie and I are at the bar having a drink with Mick, who coincidently happened to be here too. I’m introduced to his friend, Joel, who I know now is his lover. Fine by me. I should introduce them to Saylor’s friends Donnawayne and Jeffery. Everyone is having a good time. The guys are drinking, the girls are dancing, the night is perfect.

But then I hear them.

The unmistakable sound of Harley-Davidson motorcycles. It could be a bunch of guys just out on the town. But my gut tells me it’s not. By the way Rookie is looking at me, his is saying the same thing. My whole world changes in the blink of an eye when six Death Mob members walk in, scanning the crowd. I grow tense, knowing that Rookie had killed two of their guys out in the open just a few days ago. They look at us but don’t concentrate too long, and I let out a sigh of relief. It’s time to go.

But the band decides to cover The Pretty Reckless’s “Heaven Knows” and it just so happens to be Diem’s favorite f*cking song. So I’m forced to stay a little bit longer.

Death Mob is loud and obnoxious, speaking crudely to a group of women near the bar and shouting their demands to the bartenders. I don’t like it. The hate I have for them grows as I watch them disgrace all MCs with their behavior. Sure I’d done my fair share of hell-raising, but only in places that belonged to Sinner’s Creed. This is not their usual spot, but they’re letting everyone know that this is their territory. Concord is their town. And they can act however the f*ck they want.

Don’t get involved.

Don’t get involved.

I’m chanting to myself. I’m trying to find anything to watch other than the scene in front of me. I look at Diem as she moves her ass on the dance floor, her eyes trained on me. I’m counting the beats of the song, and it seems never ending. Then my eyes fall back to Mick and his friend as they sit minding their own business and share a moment. And I’m not the only one who notices.

One of Death Mob’s members says something to his brothers, and soon all their eyes are on Mick and Joel. I turn to Rookie to see the vein that appears on his forehead as his anger rises. It tells me that he can’t distance himself from what’s happening much longer. He hates Death Mob as much as I do. It’s hard when you’re within spitting distance of men worthy of a slow death and you can’t do anything about it.

When one of them puts their hands roughly on Mick’s shoulder, I’m on my feet. As I walk over, I know I’m making a mistake. I’ll raise the suspicions of everyone here and draw the attention of Death Mob chapters from near and far. But I don’t care. When I see Rookie stand and walk behind me, I know he don’t give a shit either.

Mick sees me approaching and the relief is evident on his face. He looks like he’s fighting to contain a smile too. He thinks his new friend Zeke is coming to his rescue. But he’s wrong. Tonight, I’m not his friend, and I’m not Zeke.

Tonight, I’m a one-percenter.

I’m Sinner’s Creed.

I’m f*cking Shady.





15


DIEM

BAD BOYS. THERE’S something about them. It’s almost like they possess some magical power that controls your mind . . . and your heart.

I’ve always been drawn to them. I like the way their appearance screams confidence. I like the way they make me feel safe. I like that even though everything inside me tells me to stay away, I can’t. The goose bumps, the butterflies, the thrill and the fear always win against original, ordinary, and safe.

I guess it’s the rebel in me. The bitch that claws at my skin, forcing me to adhere to something I know is no good for me. The lady dressed in red that cheers for the evil that’s buried deep within me. The Diem that longs to let the man take control. Whichever one it is telling me that Zeke is who I want is throwing one hell of a celebration right now. Because what I’m witnessing in this moment, is the f*cking epitome of a bad boy.